


Right To The Good Parts

by ikaris



Series: it's tropetastic! [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tropes, by request, maybe smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-10 00:30:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14726541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikaris/pseuds/ikaris
Summary: A series of drabbles surrounding your favorite marvel characters, for the reader by the reader!





	1. prompt lists

**Author's Note:**

> originally, i was going to continue with my soulmate collection, but after doing some introspecting i decided my skills are better suited to these just-as-tropey tropes! leave a prompt number and a character and i'll do my best to fulfill it. prompts are taken from tumblr.

**How You Said I Love You:**

  1. As a hello
  2. With a hoarse voice, under the blankets
  3. A scream
  4. Over a cup of tea
  5. Over a beer bottle
  6. On a sunny Tuesday afternoon, the late sunlight glowing in your hair
  7. As a thank you
  8. As an apology
  9. When baking chocolate chip cookies
  10. Not said to me
  11. With a shuddering gasp
  12. When we lay together on the fresh spring grass
  13. In a letter
  14. A whisper in the ear
  15. Loud, so everyone can hear
  16. Over and over again, till it’s nothing but a senseless babble
  17. When the broken grass litters the floor 
  18. From very far away
  19. With no space left between us
  20. As we huddle together, the storm raging outside
  21. Over your shoulder
  22. Muffled, from the other side of the door
  23. Through a song
  24. Without really meaning it
  25. In a blissful sigh as you fall asleep
  26. Broken, as you clutch the sleeve of my jacket and beg me not to leave
  27. A taunt, with one eyebrow raised and a grin bubbling at your lips
  28. When I am dead
  29. Slowly, the words dripping from your tongue like honey
  30. Too quick, mumbled into your scarf
  31. In awe, the first time you realised it
  32. In a way I can’t return
  33. On a post-it note
  34. Before we jump
  35. As a goodbye



**Right To The Good Parts:**

  1. I have you shoved against the wall but now I can’t stop looking at your mouth
  2. We were dancing but all of a sudden it’s a slow song and we’re standing here awkwardly staring at each other
  3. I just told you I liked you but now I’m shy and say “never mind, forget it” and why are you looking at me like that?
  4. We slept in the same bed for space reasons but now we’re just waking up and there’s something about your bleary eyes and mussed hair
  5. It’s time to fight the boss and if I don’t tell you now, I might not live to tell you
  6. Congratulations! One of your dreams has finally come true. Let me give you a big hug and wow, you’re warm…
  7. I’ve never seen anything like the way you handled that. I’m just so moved.
  8. Oh, my God, I thought you were going to die. Please don’t ever scare me like that again.
  9. We’re hiding from the authorities and it’s very close quarters in here, I can feel your body against mine.
  10. Wait, my hero’s secret identity is… you? To be honest, I’d always kind of hoped…
  11. You’ve said you’re going to leave, but I don’t want you to go and if I don’t say something now…
  12. We were pretending to be lovers but I’m not pretending anymore and I have to know if you feel the same way
  13.  This wasn’t meant to be a date, but we’ve had such a good time and now it’s 2 a.m. and I should really go home…




	2. moonlight serenade - steve rogers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> steve likes when he can dance with you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how you said i love you - a whisper in the ear, with steve rogers.

Steve’s always liked dancing with you. 

The first time you had ever asked at one of Stark’s parties, he had been wary. There was a strange hesitation there, a strange almost-but-not-quite-sadness, but he had given you a tight lipped smile and nodded. Dancing with him was, well, it was a bit underwhelming. He was nervous and stiff and he hardly even looked at you, eyes focused on some fixed point over your shoulder. You had realized, then, that Steve was missing something, from a lifetime before your own. He was still so disconnected from you, from this new world and this new time. 

So you had given him an out, told him he didn’t have to do this if he didn’t want to. He had tried not to take it, of course, but you could see right through him and he knew it, so the two of you returned to your seats and you smiled at him, soft and open, and you didn’t press him. It had taken him all of a week to approach you again, and when he did you had been so welcoming and kind and he had wondered, for a brief moment, why he ever denied himself of you.  

You had danced right in the middle of his living room, that night, and you had been patient with him as he worked through whatever was keeping him back, whatever left him stiff and curt and uncomfortable. It had taken him some time, but by the end of it, he had been pressed close to you, relishing in the way you had hummed along to his old records, hands soft and warm in his own. It was a revelation, that night, one that he would take with him to his grave, whenever that would be. 

“I’m sorry I’m so weird about dancing,” he told you, days later when you were getting coffee together. “It’s just before I went under, I...I had a date.” 

“It’s okay,” you had responded, smiling over the rim of your coffee cup. “I get it, Steve. You don’t have to apologize for anything.” 

It had become a tradition, from then on, nights stolen together tucked away into the warmth of his apartment, making dinner and laughing and dancing, teetering on the precipice of being more than friends but not quite there yet. 

He’s holding you now, on a quiet Thursday night, one hand pressed to your lower back and the other holding yours, pressing soft kisses against your temple and breathing in the smell of your shampoo. Tonight feels different, somehow, more intimate, and he wonders if you can feel the change in the air, the subtle shift that makes tonight feel so special. 

“Thank you for everything,” he murmurs, still swaying softly. “I don’t know where I’d be without you.” 

His breath catches in his throat when you nose along the side of his neck, finally stopping right below his ear, pressing a soft kiss against the skin. He can feel his whole body ignite from the inside, a warmth only you can bring on surging through his veins. He smiles, pulling you closer by the waist as you move to rest your hands against his shoulders. 

“I hope you know I’d do anything for you, Stevie,” you breathe, a simple whisper against his ear. “I love you.” 

His heart stops, and then when it begins again it’s twice as fast and he can feel that warmth spreading, consuming him until all he can focus on is you. He smiles, and he turns his head to press a warm kiss against your temple, reveling in all that you’ve given him and more. 

“Yeah, Doll, I love you, too.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback and requests are wildly appreciated!


	3. a rock and a hard place - bucky barnes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> he’s a bit out of his element, that’s for sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thattealady asked: “  
> Could you do a Right To The Good Parts - 9 about hiding in a small space and feeling each other with Bucky!!!” 
> 
> chapter warnings: none

Bucky feels like he’s going to have a heart attack.

It’s the only thing he can really think, even though it’s his fault you’re in this position in the first place. It had been a snap decision, but it was either lock himself in a tiny storage closet with you or risk ending the mission riddled with enough holes to rival a whiffleball. Even though he’s sure he’s about to start hyperventilating, he thinks he made the right choice.

When the sound of heavy footsteps rush past and he feels you press closer, he knows, despite his own nervousness, that he made the right choice.

He can feel how tense you are, muscles coiled and ready to pounce. He feels the slight tremor in your breathing, be it from the fear of being caught or the general awkwardness of the situation at hand. He can feel the way you lean into him, even if you don’t mean to, eyes fixed over his shoulder as you watch the door. He’s just as tense, metal fingers curled around the gun in the holster at his thigh, stance as wide as it can be, ready to go on the defensive should the need arise.

He knows he’s in a tight spot, both figuratively and literally, and he knows that if they found your little hiding place it would be hard to get out, but he’ll be damned if he’ll let anything happen to you or the intel you’d managed to collect. He’s calculating how long it would take to get you out of there, where the guards might be stationed and whether or not they’re still in the same corridor as you when he feels your fingers curl into the leather of his tactical suit, feels you shift enough that he can feel your breath graze the bared skin of his neck.

He feels his heart stop, and everything inside of him kind of feels like it’s on fire, but he pushes it down when you look up at him with a soft, almost nervous look in your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you mouth, still careful to keep silent just in case you’re not as alone as you might think.

He knows that you think he’s uncomfortable, and he kind of is, but not for the reason you think. He just smiles at you, small as it may be, and he shakes his head minutely. He shifts closer so you know that he’s okay, that you’re both okay, and you return his smile albeit hesitantly.

When all of this is over, he vows to take you out to dinner.

Maybe then he can actually enjoy the feeling of you pressed so close to him, without the looming threat of enemy operatives. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback is always appreciated!


	4. shot through the heart? - clint barton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> poison makes you say the strangest things...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for eva, who asked: “Hi! This is a request; from the second prompt list number 1 with Clint! Thank you very much❤” 
> 
> chapter warnings: canon typical violence, guns and gunshot wounds. 
> 
> this ran away from me.

Getting shot sucks.

Fortunately, you don’t really get the time to think about it. Before you can react Clint is yelling something you can’t quite comprehend, and then you’re crying out when the force of his body crashes into you, his arm steady around your waist as he slams you back against the wall of the warehouse.

“Woah there, babe, you’re alright,” he yells, over the sound of screams and gunfire and explosions, probably. “Where’d you get hit?”

“Shoulder,” you manage, grasping at the back of his uniform as he zeroes in on the wound. “God, it hurts like a bitch.”

He laughs, but then he’s forcing your head down and covering your body with his when something detonates a bit closer to you than he’s comfortable with. “Dammit, Stark, watch where you aim those things!”

“Sorry, Barton,” you hear, through the comms. “Not my fault you and less-scary Natasha are busy canoodling when we’re busy being shot at.”

“Can it, metal man,” Clint sounds annoyed now, glaring at the approaching operatives over his shoulder. “She’s been hit and there’s a lot of blood.”

“Need some cover?” That’s Sam, and before Clint can answer he’s swooping down and cannonballing into the closest dude with a gun, who looks less than happy to be where he is.

“Thanks, Wilson,” he grunts, trying to keep your head up. “Nat, think you can clear us a path?”

“It would be my genuine pleasure,” she responds, but by now you’ve stopped listening. Everything has blurred together and it’s all just one big cacophony now. You can still feel the burning heat in your shoulder, the warmth of your blood as it steadily oozes out, a strange bite that you’ve never felt before, but all you can focus on is Clint; how close he is, the way he holds you, the way his lips move when he’s talking. It’s a good distraction, you think, somewhere in all the haze. You like his lips. You want him to kiss you.

“Hey, sweetheart, I need you to stay awake, okay? We need to get you out of here.”

“S’comfy here,” you whisper, clinging to him when he hoists you into his arms and breaks you out of your reverie. “You’re comfy.”

“Yup, you need to get her to the quinjet now,” Steve orders, right as his shield frisbees over your heads and slams into another hydra thug. “We’ve got your back, Barton. Be quick.”

“She shouldn’t be that out of it yet,” Bucky says, grunting right after, the sound of a gun firing. “Ten bucks says they’ve laced their bullets.”

“Aww, man,” Clint whines, “just when I thought this was getting easy.”

You’re vaguely aware of the team’s increasingly frantic conversation, but there’s a nice fuzzy haze blanketing everything, a shroud that beckons you to the call of sleep. Clint trips and you’re jostled, for a moment, but it’s nothing against the strange warmth that surges through your veins. There’s a throbbing, dull but demanding enough to be noticed, stemming from your shoulder now, but it’s not what you’re focusing on.

“Hey there, angel, eyes open,” Clint grunts, pulling you closer as he picks up his pace. “Just a few more minutes, okay? We’re so close.”

“‘M tryin,” you whisper, head lolling against his shoulder. “S’really hard. Does getting shot always feel like this?”

“I think you’re just unlucky,” he supplies, offering you a strained grin when he jostles you enough to open your eyes. “Good, keep lookin’ at me.”

“Your lips are so nice,” you mumble, trying a little harder to fight against whatever tries to pull you under. “Kept hopin’ you’d kiss me against the building back there.”

He nearly chokes, but the sound is strangled. Somebody on comms barks out a laugh, but you can’t tell who. Sleep is slowly starting to creep up on you, conscious thought giving way to lethargic haze. You can feel yourself slipping, and part of you panics, fights hard to keep your eyes open and focused on Clint, but it gets harder and harder with every blink. He shakes you again.

“C’mon, baby, don’t give up yet,” he almost yells. “If you stay awake I’ll give you the best kiss of your life when this is all over.”

His voice floats in and out of your consciousness, bouncing, almost, and you let out a small huff, trying and trying and trying to keep yourself alert.

“Stark, we need a destabilizing agent,” he nearly screams, yelping when redwing nearly slams into the side of his head. Sam yells out a quick apology, but it’s muffled by the sound of redwing tearing holes into the swarms of agents that don’t seem to stop coming.

“Banner’s on standby,” Tony says. “Get her to the jet and he’ll sort you guys out.”

It’s all far and away, now, the battle, your teammates. Time seems to slow down, the world coming to a steady stop. Clint’s hold on you is warm and secure, comforting, but you hardly notice it when he sets you down on the medical cot in the quinjet. You don’t know when you got there, or when all of the chaos went away, but you don’t really care. Everything sounds muted, like you’re underwater, and finally, sleep pulls you, casts its spell on you and takes you under.

“C’mon, sweetheart. You can’t just leave me when you owe me a kiss. That’s bad manners…”

It’s the last thing you hear before everything fades into a nice, comforting silence. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback is GREATLY appreciated.


	5. a rock and a hard place redux: a cock in a hard place - bucky barnes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a redo, of sorts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thattealady said: “Awww i love it!!! im such a sucker for tender bucky barnes lol - would you be down to write a part 2? Like same scenario but smutty ehehe? :P”
> 
> sorry for not making this smut in the first place, lol. these scenarios tend to run away from me! 
> 
> chapter warnings: NSFW (dry-humping)

Bucky feels like he’s going to have a heart attack.

It’s the only thing he can really think, even though it’s his fault you’re in this position in the first place. It had been a snap decision, but it was either lock himself in a tiny storage closet with you or risk ending the mission riddled with enough holes to rival a whiffleball. Even though he’s sure he’s about to start hyperventilating, he thinks he made the right choice.

He can feel you, all of you, pressed so tightly against him it’s almost maddening. He can feel your chest, soft and yielding against his own, your hips flush with the tops of his thighs, your hands digging into where his tact suits lays over his sides. It’s so goddamn overwhelming, the way you fit against him, snug and oh-so-perfectly. Your breath fans against his neck and Bucky swears it’s like electricity, crackling under his skin and lighting him from the inside out.

He knows, he knows now of all times is not where he should be feeling like this, drunk off of being close to you and high off of adrenaline, but he can’t help it. Bucky’s always been a sucker for a pretty dame and damn it if you don’t have him wrapped right around your little finger. You’re intoxicating, invigorating, and it’s got hot-red blood rushing to places it shouldn’t be in the middle of a goddamn mission. He lets himself breathe in the smell of your shampoo, the scent not quite covered by the sweat and grime you’ve accumulated since you arrived at the dark and dingy complex a few hours before.

It takes all he has not to groan out loud. Bucky wants to be ashamed of himself, he finds. Here you are pressed together in a tight little closet because there were people shooting guns at you, on a rather important mission nonetheless, and he’s popping a stiffie like a fucking teenager. It’s embarrassing, if not a little demeaning. He can’t even fill in the silence with small talk, because there’s the very real possibility that you’ll be made and your little hiding place will become your grave, so now all he can do is keep an ear out for the door and hope to god that you don’t move and feel what he’s packing.

It only takes all of three minutes for his fear to be realized. He can feel how tense you are, coiled tight like a spring, and he knows what’s coming before he can brace himself (or you, for that matter). It’s starts in your shoulders, when you roll them down and then it moves down your torso to your hips, where you move out and up and–

There it is.

He doesn’t hear you gasp so much as he feels it, but he’s too busy trying to keep his mouth shut. God, that one little brush against him leaves him reeling. It’s like fire, white-hot fire, and he can’t help the way his body reacts, helpless and wanting for you. He’s embarrassed, terrified, a whole lot of both, really, and he bites his lip and does his best to put at least a little distance between the two of you. His cock is literally aching and it’s so dumb, this is all so stupid, because he’s a grown-ass man, but you light his candle like he’s a fuckin’ kid again and it’s humiliating, so humiliating it makes him want to open that door and let the buffoons outside end his suffering.

But that doesn’t happen. What happens happens fast enough that even he can’t even really process it. You shift again, minute at first, and then your whole body is moving, arms sliding up to lock around his shoulders as you hitch a leg around him and roll your hips against his. God, that almost does him in. He gasps, but he muffles it into your shoulder, pressing closer until the wall is digging painfully into your shoulder blades. Your grip on him tightens, and you do it again, angling yourself so the swell of his cock presses against your cunt. Both of you almost cry out, but he stops it by slanting his lips over yours, grunting quietly as you tangle your fingers into his hair.

It feels so good, Bucky finds. He moves his hips again, slow and deliberate, and he puts as much force behind it as he can, sliding the firm line of his cock against you, pliant and yielding underneath him. You rock with him, head falling back as he catches your clit just right. The sensation is a little dull under the layers of clothes you both wear, but it’s a taste, a good taste of what might come. You gasp, but he swallows it, tongue licking over your top lip as he pulls you even closer. It’s delicious, whatever this is, and the fact that you could be caught at any given moment only just tugs at your mind, but it’s not enough to stop you both.

He snaps forward a little quicker then, desperate, and it has you tilting your head down into his flesh shoulder, biting at the leather there to keep yourself quiet. He picks up a heavy pace then, and it’s delicious. He’s aware that you probably won’t get off on this, not with the little stimulation he’s providing you, but he’s at least appeased by how much you seem to be enjoying yourself, pleased little sounds muffled against his shoulder as the two of you dry-hump like teenagers.

In one swift movement, he’s got your legs around his waist and it opens you up to him, enough that you’re at least feeling a little more, the heavy weight of his cock brushing against your cunt with every thrust. He tries to wedge a hand between you both, hopeful to at least give you his fingers, something to tide you over until later when he knows he’ll inevitably fuck you into next week, but you grab his wrist and shake your head, a little frantic as your hips buck against his.

“Not enough time,” you whisper, biting down on your lip. “Later.”

He nods, and there’s a furrow between his brows that wasn’t there before. He vows to hold you to your word, but for now he’s too far gone, fucking against you madly, desperate to seek the release that’ll relieve his aching cock. Your head falls back again and he latches onto your neck, covering your mouth with his flesh hand when you almost yelp. It’s too much and it’s not enough, and even if you know that you won’t cum like this alone, the way he’s making you feel is out of this world.

You tighten your legs around his waist and from the way he picks up speed, you know he’s almost gone. It takes a couple more seconds, the spaces between being filled with the sound of your heavy breathing, and before you know it’s he’s cumming into his leather pants, rocking frantically against you as he rides out the waves of his orgasm. He bites back a heady groan, resting his forehead against your shoulder as you card your fingers through his sweaty hair. He’s trembling a little bit, and for that matter so are you, but neither of you really mind.

“I’ll make it up to you, doll,” he whispers, kissing right below your ear as he sets you down, still a bit wobbly in the knees. “When all of this is over, I’ll give it back as good as I can get it, cross my heart.”

“I’m counting on it,” you murmur, smiling up at him as he sorts himself out.

For now, you have a mission, and the sooner you finish the sooner you can make good on your promises. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback is GREATLY appreciated!


	6. all my tomorrows (and yours, too) - steve rogers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there better be room for one more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yellowvim said: “  
> How I Said I Loved You - 22 with the best boy Steve Rogers please ♡”
> 
> 22 - muffled, through the door. 
> 
> chapter warnings: pregnancy

If there’s one thing he wasn’t prepared for, it’s this.

To say he’s terrified is an understatement, but he manages to keep his cool, leaning against the bathroom door as he waits for, well, for whatever the verdict is, good or bad. He doesn’t know which outcome constitutes good or bad, but he thinks he should let you be the one to decide that. He can hear you, through the door, muttering quietly as you anxiously go over the results. He wants to comfort you, to hold you, but he knows that right now, you need to be by yourself, or as ‘by yourself’ as you can possibly be with Steve hovering just outside the door.

He sighs, but he finally relaxes, sliding down until he’s sitting against the door and his head falls back with a dull thud. He hears you do the same, and he almost smiles, but he can still hear how nervous you are, in the way you breathe, quick and heavy.

“Steve,” you whisper, knowing he can hear you. “What will we do?”

“Whatever we need to,” he responds, simply. “I’ll support you no matter what, sweetheart. You know that.”

He hears you huff out an anxious chuckle, and his heart settles, for a moment. “What if I’m not cut out to be a mom, Steve? What if I can’t do this?”

“Well, you’ll just have to learn, then,” he says turning his head so his cheek rests against the door. “I ‘spose I’ll have to do some learnin’ of my own, now that I think about it. I don’t know the first thing about child care. But we can learn together, right? There’s books for that.”

He hears you laugh, soft, still just as nervous, but something still tugs at his chest, a heaviness that won’t go away until he knows for certain.

“Stevie?” your voice is subdued, muffled now. “It’s positive.”

That heaviness dissipates, but in its place there’s a gnawing fear that he can’t do this, that he’s not going to be a good father, but he pushes that down because it’s what he expected to feel, after all. What he doesn’t expect is a gush of warmth to surge through his veins, nervousness and excitement all at once.

“Is that good? Bad?” he’s nervous, he can feel it in the way his voice shakes, but he doesn’t mind.

“Well, it certainly means something,” you reply, softly. “It means that you and I made a baby, Stevie. I’m pregnant.”

He knows you’re just as anxious as him, so he stands and presses his forehead to the door. “I love you,” he murmurs, so it’s a bit muffled. “I love you no matter what, okay? We can do this do this, doll. We can _do_  this.”

It takes a moment, but then you open the door and you’re looking up at him with such sad, hopeful eyes and he knows then and there that he’s going to have to do a lot of reading. Steve nearly crushes you in an embrace, laughing softly, if a little scared, as you cling to him just as tightly. You press your face against his neck and breathe in the scent of his body wash and leftover cologne, and it comforts you.

“I’ll stop going on so many missions,” he whispers into your hair. “Maybe I can pull some strings so it’s only the world ending stuff they’ll need me for.”

You chuckle. “They’ll always need you, Cap. Now it’s up to you to decide who needs you more. Us or them.”

You feel him tense a little bit, and you press a soothing kiss to his neck. “This isn’t gonna be easy, Rogers, but I think we can do it. That is, if you’re up for it

He pulls away to look at you then, and finally, his anxiety melts away until he’s left with a beaming grin. “Oh, doll, you know there’s no gettin’ rid of me now. Not before, and especially not now with Baby Rogers growin’ in that belly of yours. We gotta tackle this as a team.”

“Baby Rogers,” you can’t help but shake your head, smiling a real smile, bright and beaming and brilliant. “So we’re doing this? We’re going to be parents?”

“We’re gonna be parents,” he confirms, grinning down at you. God, there’s so much you have to discuss now, especially regarding your day jobs(read: avenging), and not to mention how you thought kids were off the table for him forever, but right now, with the way he’s holding you none of that matters. Steve looks happy, real happy, and you know then that it’s going to be okay, whatever happens.

He’ll make sure of that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback is GREATLY appreciated :’)


	7. every kind of way - thor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> he loves you. what more is there to say?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mindful asked: “  
> HELLO i’m back omg i just read through all of the chapters so far and my heart is certainly aflutter c’: would it be possible to request a combination of #2 from “how you said i love you” and #4 from “right to the good parts” with my handsome man thor? if not, either one of those would be just fine on their own!! thank you so much i’m so excited” 
> 
> prompts: 
> 
> how you said i love you - 2: with a hoarse voice, under the blankets. 
> 
> right to the good parts - 4: we slept in the same bed for space reasons but now we’re just waking up and there’s something about your bleary eyes and mussed hair.
> 
> chapter warnings: implied sexual content, tooth rotting fluff. this one is also a bit longer!

In the gentle glow of the morning, he is soft.

It is a picture you wish to keep forever, the way he sleeps: flat on his belly with his arms curled under his pillow, lips parted, face free of the harsh lines that curve around his smile; the crow’s feet that crinkle just at the corners of his eyes. Thor has always looked so peaceful in sleep, where the stresses of his everyday life don’t dare touch him, where they leave him soft and open and vulnerable. It is something you were once jealous of, how serenely he slept, how relaxed he was despite the horrors he’s no doubt witnessed. But over time it became something you treasured, whatever brief respite it could bring to him. It made you worry for him less, made your heart lighter in a way that you couldn’t quite describe.

He is crowded closer to you than usual, a good bit of space left on his other side, but you don’t mind. You like it when he’s close to you, when you get to feel the warmth of him; the way his hard body relaxes, softens. He snores quietly, but you find it endearing.

It’s not often you get to share a bed with him, so you allow yourself to savor everything, from the way he’s kind of a blanket hog to the way he holds you when he thinks you’re too deep in sleep to notice, desperate and longing in a way you didn’t quite understand, not at first.

It’s a rarity, getting to bask in the other’s presence. With Asgard left in shambles after Hela’s attack and the Avengers all but disbanded, there had been little time left for you to devote to each other. Even before, his time was split between two planets, one he swore to protect and the other he was destined to rule. You had understood, going in, that no matter what you might never be his top priority, maybe not even his second, and you had been okay with that, as long as you were able to love him and be loved in return.

It didn’t matter that he spent so much time away from you, didn’t matter that there was always a chance he wouldn’t come back. All that mattered was that he chose you at the end of a long day, when he was temporarily free from his duties and allowed to indulge himself with love and other such things. All that mattered was that he did come back, no matter the trouble, with a loving smile and an apology at the ready, eager to see you, to be near you.

He sighs quietly, and you’re broken out of your reverie. You watch the way he stirs, the way his muscles tense and then relax, lips smacking together, the faintest of groans rumbling in his chest. When he’s feeling particularly lazy, it always takes him a moment to fully come to, desperate to cling to whatever remains of slumber he can before he finally opens his eyes and graces you with the softest of smiles.

It is no different this morning, and the first thing he does is offer a sleepy grin, shifting until he can wrap an arm around your waist and bring you close, pulling the blanket up until it rests just at your shoulders.

“I could spend an eternity waking up to your smile and still it would not be enough,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Good morning, my love.”

You can’t help the way you melt against him. It is something you both relish, how easy being together comes, how natural it is. You smile, and you’re the first to initiate a real kiss this morning, lips soft and unhurried as they brush against his own.

“You old romantic,” you giggle, by way of greeting. “How am I expected to get out of bed if that’s the first thing you say to me?”

He chuckles, the sound deep and reverberating, and you love it.

“I suppose the answer is quite simple,” he teases, nuzzling your nose with his. “It is one of my only days where nothing is required of me, and I should like to be able to spend it with you and you alone in the safety of this bed, where no one and nothing can touch you but me.”

Your breath catches, and if the way his gentle smile slowly melts into a smirk, you know he hears it. He doesn’t waste any time, and before you can process it he’s hovering above you, blankets falling around you like a cocoon, shielding you from anything but him. When he leans down to kiss you, it is sweet and chaste, and you all but turn to a puddle underneath him, grasping a handful of his newly-shortened hair in a bid for any sort of purchase. Like that, there is a flash of heat, and you moan quietly as his teeth nip at your lower lip, his hands getting stronger in the way they roam your body, pulling you flush against him.

“One day we will wake up like this every morning,” he whispers, allowing himself to settle a bit more of his weight against you. “That I can promise you.”

You don’t say anything back, but you let yourself smile, tilting your chin up to catch his lips in another kiss. It is soft at first, but soon he’s coaxing your lips apart and despite the morning his tongue tastes sweet, sweeter than anything you’ve ever had. He pulls away for a moment, breathing deeply, and then he’s moving back in, lips hot and demanding, stealing the breath straight from your lungs.

His hands are hot against your skin, scorching a path along your waist, your hips, your thighs. When he hoists a leg over his hip, his grip is firm yet loving. Somewhere along the way, the softness of the morning is replaced with a sort of desperation characteristic to these kind of days, when he wants for nothing but you, to be inside of you, to be near you in any way that he can be. It never takes very long for him to work you both to that point, but something is different this morning. As quick as the fire had engulfed you, it cools into a quieter sort of blaze, and while you can feel him, heavy and hot against your thigh, he makes no move to do anything yet.

Instead, he drops kisses to your neck, your chin, your jaw, the scruff of his beard stinging along the way. He still holds you close, leg still hitched over his hip, but he is less intense now, more content to bask in your presence, the soft give of your body so pliant underneath his. He smiles, and it is the kind of smile that leaves you breathless, makes your heart beat in a way you’re sure will only ever be for him. He leans down, and once again he’s kissing you, but it’s so soft you almost want to cry.

“I love you,” he murmurs, voice hoarse, whether from sleep or the way he wants you, you’re not sure. “I don’t think that I will ever stop loving you.”

There is a reverence there, a sincerity so true your heart threatens to give out then and there. Instead, you smile, and you card your fingers through his unruly hair, tugging him closer so his forehead rests against yours. He laughs quietly when you press a soft kiss to the very tip of his nose.

“I love you, too,” you whisper, grinning. “I love you, too, Thor. So much.”

He grin is bright and bubbly, and you love the way he all but crashes against you, rolling until you’re situated on top of him, nose brushing against his as he tangles his fingers in your hair.

“That’s good,” he chuckles, pressing a swift kiss against your lips. “That is very, very good.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback is ALWAYS appreciated!


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